I reached out and laid my hand on hers. I wanted her to wake. I needed her hand on my face. I needed her mouth on mine, I needed her to wrap her arms around my waist.
I gripped her hand, but still she slept on. My eyes wandered over her body. My chest clenched with how much I wanted her. She was beautiful. So fucking beautiful.
My gaze drifted down her neck to her chest and her tits. Then I stilled, my eyes wide as my gaze met the gold necklace around her neck. I gasped for air as I recalled my papa handing similar ones to Anri and I. He wanted us to restore the clan’s reputation, to make the Kostavas great once more.…
Papa stood, and with a hand on each shoulder, asked, “Who will you destroy?”
We took a deep breath, and recited the three names we knew by heart; “The Volkovs, Tolstois, and Durovs.” My blood rushed like fire through my veins. The necklaces we were given were gold, the pendent showing our family crest.
I stared at Talia’s necklace, it looked exactly the same. Breath held, I leaned forward and studied the pendent. There was a crest. My pulse pounded as I made out the emblem—a wolf, a shield, and then I stopped dead when my eyes read the family name engraved along the top.
Breathe, breathe, I told myself, but I couldn’t breathe. Releasing Talia’s hand, my fists clenched at my sides.
It couldn’t be. She can’t be. No!
I remembered waking in the basement. I was trapped in darkness, I was held in chains. Captured. Left to die.
I shook my head as pain and rage filled my muscles. The name on Talia’s pendent pierced my mind. With each and every stab, the fire burned and burned. They’d exiled my family. They were the reason Jakhua turned on my father, the reason my family had died.
Papa’s voice sounded in my head, “Who will you destroy?”
“The Volkovs, Tolstois, and Durovs.”
Tolstoi.
No longer able to rein in my fury, a roar ripped from my throat. I lurched my body over Talia. She’d lied. She’d deceived me. I wasn’t free.… I was a fucking captive of the Tolstois!
Talia’s brown eyes snapped open in shock. I gripped both of her wrists, lifting them above her head. She gasped as she tried to move, the blood rushing from her face. But she wasn’t going anywhere. She couldn’t move.
Her frightened brown eyes met mine. “Zaal, what? What’s wrong?”
She pulled on her arms, trying to break free, but I snarled and hissed, “Tolstoi…” Venom and hatred fueled my anger.
Talia’s face turned even whiter and her eyes grew impossibly wide. Her bottom lip began to tremble and her hands began to shake. “Zaal … please,” she begged. Her plea, for a moment, made me flinch. I hated when she was sad.
Tolstoi! My mind pushed. Anger regained its hold.
“Tolstoi,” I growled threateningly.
She shook her head. “Zaal.”
“Fucking Tolstois!” I roared. “The enemy!” Talia flinched and cowered underneath my body. “You’re the fucking enemy!” I thundered, but Talia only cried more.
“No!” she whispered brokenly. “Don’t.”
Klavs, klavs, klavs, sasaklao, I heard in my mind.
I should have killed her. I was a Kostava. Tolstois should die under my hand. But I couldn’t. It was Talia.
Wrenching back, I pushed off the bed. My hands gripped the side of my skull. The pain was too much, grief consuming my heart.
“Zaal!” Talia cried and scurried to the end of the bed. I whipped my head to face her. Her face was red and blotted from crying. She stared at me, and my heart ached. It was Talia. My Talia.
But she was a fucking Tolstoi!
With shaking arms, she held out her hand. “Please,” she begged, “take it … trust me … let me explain.”
I stared at her hand. But all I could see was Papa giving me and Anri our necklaces, telling us to avenge the family. The guards pointing rifles, gunshots, blood … Zoya … Zoya’s dark eyes begging me to help. But I couldn’t … I couldn’t save her.…
New images invaded my brain. A narrow cold bed, Jakhua’s cold smirk, his laughter, needles, pain from being sliced open. Anri screaming beside me. Chains, beatings. More needles, more pain. Then darkness, anger, nothing but red-hot anger, and the constant craving to kill.
Body shaking, my neck corded and bulged with tension. My teeth gritted. I clenched my fists so hard my nails drew blood on my palm. I screamed to the sky and ran out of Talia Tolstaia’s room.
I thundered toward the stairs. Tolstoi guards were running to meet me, guns held high. Roaring at the memory of guards firing on my family, I charged. They were nothing to me. I plowed my fist into a guard’s face. Lifting him in my hands, I raised my knee, thrust him down, and snapped his back.
Another guard fired at me; the bullet hit the wall. But the sound of that bullet incensed me, ripping me straight back into the past. Reaching out over the narrow staircase, I gripped the guard’s neck, and slammed my head against his. The guard faltered, collapsing on impact. I placed my hands around his neck and twisted. It snapped, and I threw his lifeless body on the floor.
I raced down the stairs. I had to escape this hell. When I rounded the corner at the bottom of the staircase, I saw the outside door. Pushing forward, I made for the exit.
As I passed through the living room, movement to my left caught my eye. Him. Luka. 818. A motherfucking Tolstoi! He stared at me, chest bared, only sweatpants covering his legs, just like me. I lowered my head. Anger wrapped around me, surrounding me with fury.
“Zaal,” Luka said coldly, “calm the fuck down.”
I rolled my neck from side to side as I watched Luka brace to fight. I curled my lip in disgust. I began pacing, back and forth, back and forth.
“Zaal—”
“Tolstoi!” I thundered, watching Luka’s face. “You are a fucking Tolstoi!”
Luka’s jaw clenched and his eyes darkened. “I am like you,” he said in a deathly tone. “I was taken from my family, too. I fought to survive. Killed night after night until I could break free.” He stepped forward, the movement irritating me. “I fought with your brother, alongside him. I fought with Anri, he was my best friend, my brother.”
He was my best friend, my brother.…
I convulsed with even greater fury as those words ignited in me. “No,” I growled, “you are a fucking Tolstoi. You are the enemy. An enemy I swore to my father to destroy!”
“Anri was my friend, not an enemy! Family means nothing in the cage!” Luka bellowed back.
I snapped. I charged forward, gripping Luka by the throat. But he fought back, his strength nothing like I’d ever encountered before. His arm slammed down on mine, the force knocking my arm away. He pushed on my chest; I stumbled back. I paced again, my body remembering the kill … remembering bringing death.
I wanted it.
I craved it.
“How did he die?” I hissed.
Luka stilled, and my eyes bored into his. “How did he fucking die?” I boomed. Luka lifted his hands, as if in surrender.
“Me,” he said quietly. My world stopped. “I killed him,” he said. “He died at my hands.”
Heat, so intense, flared at my feet and traveled through my body like hellfire. He killed Anri? A Tolstoi killed my brother.
Heaving forward, I rushed Luka. I tackled him to the ground. My fists struck his face over and over, but Luka hit back. I ignored the pain and agony of his blows as we fought for dominance on the ground. In blind fury I just kept hitting.
“I had no choice!” Luka snarled as he rolled me on my back, his hand tight around my throat. Sheer strength kept me pinned to the floor. His dark eyes pierced mine. As he spoke he seemed to make me a promise. “I had no choice but to kill him. We were forced to fight. I had to get my revenge on the man who had me captured and taken to the gulag.”